


Til Dark Lord Lifts His Hand

by chains_archivist



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Boys in Chains, Prison
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-26
Updated: 2015-03-26
Packaged: 2018-03-19 17:46:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3618696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chains_archivist/pseuds/chains_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>by Angel</p>
            </blockquote>





	Til Dark Lord Lifts His Hand

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Dusk, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [Boys in Chains](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Boys_in_Chains), which opened in 2000 as a multifandom archive for both fiction and art, but then sadly went offline in 2005. To bring the archive back, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in December 2014. Open Doors [posted an announcement](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/1832) and e-mailed all creators about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please [contact the Open Doors committee](http://transformativeworks.org/contact/open%20doors).  
> \--
> 
> Notes: Originally written for a fantasy lit class, this was published in the Minas Tirith Evening Star some years ago. All characters property of the Tolkien estate.

"Til dark lord lifts his hand" A postulation  
c 1991 Angelia Sparrow 

The orcs found Frodo in the lair of Shelob and carried him to Barad-Dur. Sam, his heart pounding in his mouth, followed stealthily. He had dispatched that stinker, Gollum, although he had not meant to. The sneak now lay in a drying puddle of blackish blood near the mouth of the spider's cave where Sam had backed into the rock wall to save himself. The weight of the Ring pulled at his neck as he heard the foul folk in the tower quarrel and fight among themselves. Exhausted by the ordeal at Cirith Ungol, he dozed. 

When he awoke, there was silence. He ventured a cautious look out of the niche he had occupied. Nothing. As he ventured further out, listening for danger, he tried to remember where he had last heard Frodo taken. He did not see the shape behind the door as he crossed the threshold of the tower. He was looking at the grisly scene before him. Shargat and Gorbag had come to blows, and all their followers with them. In the end, Gorbag's troops had won, but Sam did not know all of this. The shape behind the door watched as a mighty figure wrapped in grey shadow with a blinding light held forward strode into the tower. 

Gorbag closed his eyes and waited a moment. The light passed and he saw another of the little rat-folk, like the one with the pretty armor in the cell above, begin to climb the stairs. Moving silently, he followed Sam and, halfway up the stairs of the tower, smote him from behind. The hobbit fell to the stairs, unconscious. Gorbag picked the hobbit up, slung him over his shoulder, and carried him up the steps to join his comrade. 

"Ho now, what's this?" he grunted, seeing the Ring fall out of Sam's jerkin. "The Master will be glad of this." Leaving the two halflings, he locked the trap door and left the tower. 

The next day did not dawn. The siege continued at Minas Tirith. In the forest, the Riders of Rohan and the wildmen were embattled with nazgñl and other fell beasts. And Sauron, at last, returned his precious ring to its rightful place. In the heat of his hand, the writing appeared again. The bearers of the Three know what had happened, becoming aware the moment he put it on. 

Cirdan at the Havens turned his face west and wept for his people who would now be destroyed before leaving for Elvenhome. Galadriel walked among the just blooming mallorns, her hands wrapped tightly around each other, he fair face drawn and sad. Elrond merely bowed his head in sorrow, knowing the quest had failed and that the Enemy had been far wiser than any suspected. 

The men of Gondor fought valiantly before the Witch-King and his troops, and fell as valiantly. Peregrin was slain before the doors of the White Tower, and even the wounded in the Houses of Healing were murdered in their beds. The Rohirrim, much decimated, arrived too late. No living thing moved in the streets of Minas Tirith, save orcs. 

The Corsairs of Umbar, sailing up the Anduin, saw the banner of the Eye floating over the walls. Elessar unfurled his banner, and although he slew many, when he was cut down by the Witch-King, it fluttered into a forlorn heap of cloth, no longer shining with starlight, on the deck of the ship. 

Saruman was reinstated to Isengard, and given a portion of the lands around. Fangorn was leveled. Lothlorien burned. Mirkwood again became a home for unclean things. The Shire fell, its people becoming slaves to till the ground. The Dwarves of the Mountain were seduced with the remaining rings and became thralls of Mordor. 

The two hobbits watched all of this, their hearts breaking, from the window of Barad-Dur. 

"Do you not like my handiwork?" came the voice from everywhere and nowhere. "Since you assisted me so well, I thought I should give you the privilege of seeing it through to the end, the end of all things." 

Frodo awoke in his chair at Bag-End, clutching the white stone around his neck. He was shaking and the wound in his shoulder ached as it had not since it was new. Darkness lay in the hall and around the edge of the room. He almost fancied he heard a sniffing sound from outside. 

He sat awake until dawn, merely to watch the sun rise over the Hill and to know that the dream was false. Sam was due back the next day from a gardening expedition, and he would break the news of his impending journey then. 

*end*


End file.
